Rainy evening in Pierrefeu

This time last year I was on the beach at St Clair with Linda R and Linda M. Now, it’s monsoon time in PF. Not that the vines don’t need it, but it does prompt me to inspect the house and its every nook and cranny every ten minutes. So far so good…

Not sure whether or not this is good news for the sailing teams from all over the world who have amassed at Hyeres this week, for the French Olympic Sailing week. They were all congregating at the port yesterday – young and bronzed to a man/woman. And scarfing down food at the Tocco as if their lives depended on it. I popped in there straight from the airport, as is traditional. What was less traditional was my choice of Orangina instead of the pink stuff. Dashed antibiotics.

Once I got up to Pierrefeu, I parked at the top and started trundling through the village with my suitcase. Got a cheery welcome from an elderly gentleman who pointed out that he’d not seen me for ages and then joshed that he’d not slept or eaten for missing me. It’s amazing how much you can enjoy a bit of light flirtation with a seventy year-old.

House looked great. And before long I was back in peasant mode, with the Evil One lit, the Powerbook playing back-to-back Will and Grace and a pizza in the oven. (Actually, I don’t think peasants a century ago had the last two things.) It’s good to be home…

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